


Ghost Town

by Broken_Twisted_Lullabies



Series: Unnatural Writers Club [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s05e10 Abandon All Hope..., Implied/Referenced Character Death, POV First Person, Set season 5, Some Swearing, Unnatural Writers Club, based on a prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22472311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Twisted_Lullabies/pseuds/Broken_Twisted_Lullabies
Summary: It’s like everyone has just up and vanished and we’re the only ones left. [Unnatural Writers 2019 - prompt: POV]
Series: Unnatural Writers Club [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/603010
Comments: 2





	Ghost Town

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this writing challenge had been to write in the first person POV without specifying who the character was and let the readers try to figure out who it was. I feel like it's fairly obvious who it is fairly quickly, but hey! Ah well!

I wipe the knife against my jeans, cleaning off the non-existing mess on the gleaming silver blade. Rather than doing this as a tactile reason, I do it in more of a nervous gesture, much like how one might crack their knuckles. There’s something strange in the air that clings to my body as we walk down the empty street, straight down the middle, and so I hold the knife, not yet willing to tuck it away in my boot. The wind greets us, moving calmly down the street, blowing my hair into my eyes and I frown, trying to push it back. It’s fairly long, and while I don’t necessarily mind the length of it, the small practical voice inside my head tells me it’s far too long to be safe, especially in this line of work for a hunter. Most hunters didn’t care how long your hair was, it was your business after all, not theirs, but the longer it was, the easier for monsters to grab, yank and overall cause more harm than good. Plus, it was a bitch to deal with when tangled or knotted. 

_ Or windy _ , I grumble, pulling an unlucky strand that made its way into my mouth as the wind moved past us. 

I hear a snort and turning my head sharply to the left of me, I make eye contact with Dean. His eyes are lit up with amusement at my struggle with the wind and I glare darkly at him. He shuts up, eyes forwards, but I still catch the easy smirk that rests on his face.

After getting hair in my face a third time, I really begin to wish I had cut it. Growing up, I had heard a few stories told by hunters of the issues of having long hair -- these were mainly first hand experiences or from friends of theirs and it got passed along -- and more often than not you’d see hunters in bars with hair cut short and close to the scalp. The less hair for monsters to grab onto, the better. I wanted mine to be shorter as well, but had a feeling that short hair wouldn’t suit me, despite being practical. And, knowing myself, I’d be the one who’d cut it with a pair of scissors quickly, only to screw the whole thing up ( _ Most likely, it’d end up being shorter in some sections and more ragged in others and I’d rather deal with the chuckles that came from my battles with the wind and long hair than looking like rag-tag Fraggle _ ). 

Oh, I could imagine what my dad would say, had he been alive and here right now. He’d probably pull me aside once we got back, ruffle my hair and tell me: “ _ Kid, I think you might be needing a haircut! Grow it any longer and the monster with all think you’re Rapunzel! _ ” 

His voice always sounds rough in my head, but, at the same time, I can hear the underlying love beneath all that that every father had for his kid. Mine’s was just buried a little deeper, hardened by years of hunts with gruesome creatures that’d give anyone nightmares. 

Dean stops in the middle of the street rather abruptly and I almost bump into him, lost in my own thoughts. However, I catch myself last minute, snapping out of my head when he says, “Where is everyone?”. He looks around, frowning and I can’t help but wonder the same question, joining him in a scan of their surroundings. 

It’s too quiet, especially for a town this big and this busy. And realizing that only adds to the growing sense of wrongness that forms in my gut. Something ain’t right, and looking at the others around me, I can tell they feel the same thing I do. Their eyes are narrowed, sharp, weapons drawn in their hands and shoulders stiff, ready to attack whatever what doing this. I’m sure I look the same, only holding a blade rather than a sawed off shotgun like a few of the others are. I take in my surroundings, tearing my eyes from the others. It’s like we’ve entered a ghost town somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Arizona. Only we haven’t. We’re in the middle of one of the busiest towns and yet there isn’t a single person out besides us. The wind, having finally left alone my hair, pushes along a week old newspaper across the sidewalk, and just up ahead, a few wrappers from fast food meals dance in the wind as well, but besides that, it seems there’s no living things anywhere. Even the stores seem deserted, abandoned without a second guess and I notice that it seems like everyone just up and vanished one day. There are cars left in the street and parking lots, one or two with doors still open, and a few belongings are strewn here and there, giving the appearance like everyone in the town realized they had someplace else to be and were late, and thus dropped everything to hurry to wherever it was. 

But even then, I know I should find  _ something _ . Some form of live somewhere in this empty town, but its silent. There’s not even a rat or mangy cat in the alley way. 

“I don’t know,” I say after a little bit of silent, answering the earlier question. “Everyone’s just...gone. There’s nothing here.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” my mom says, standing beside me and the others nod in agreement. It’s like nothing they’ve ever dealt with, and normally it takes a lot to surprise hunters. 

“What do you think did this?” Says a voice on my right and I shrug, not bothering to face it. 

“I’m not too sure, but I don’t know if I want to meet whatever it is. With all the craziness that’s been happening these last few months, who knows what the hell crawled out of Hell to join the party,” I say.

We then keep walking, following the street closer and closer to the centre of town, hoping that maybe we might find someone. After all, just because those on the outskirts left, didn’t necessarily mean  _ everyone _ left. 

Turning left onto another street, we continue to follow it, but still we find nothing. Not a soul in sight. 

“Cas, you know what’s going on here?” Dean asks, looking over at the trenchcoated angel who has been silent basically the whole time we’ve been walking. 

“I think so…” Cas says, looking around and sounding, overall, rather distracted. 

“Well?” 

The angel’s frown deepens as he furrows his brow, and something tells him what he’ll say next will only add to the feeling in my gut. 

“We aren’t alone. Not really,” he says cryptically. 

“I don’t see anyone, anywhere,” I tell him. “This is a ghost town.”

He shakes his head. “They’re here. Just... not all are human. There are reapers, hundreds of them. All standing, all waiting. At first I thought it was nothing, but the further we walk, the more there are. Something has happened here, to gather this many of them all at once, and whatever it is, is most likely behind the lack of people in the town,” Cas explains to us, blade slipping out of his coat sleeve and into his hand. 

I swallow, mouth tasting like it was full of bile. Reapers. If what Cas had said was true, to have that many reapers, it would mean a large number of people had died, or would die, very soon. Almost like a whole town. “It’s a sacrifice,” I whisper, and heads turn to face me. “Right? To need this many people, do it now of all times, this isn’t just any ordinary monster, is it?” 

Cas shakes his head again. He doesn’t offer an answer however, instead he leans closer as if inspecting something that none of us can see before disappearing in a flutter of wings, leaving only the four of us behind. I hear a sigh and we continue to walk, part of me hoping that Cas’ll come back soon, and with answers. Deeper and deeper we get in the town and we begin to find even more signs of people having left almost in a hurry, and god, it really feels like everyone’s vanished into thin air. 

My mom puts a hand on my shoulder, surprising me, and when I look over at her, she offers me a small smile, as if to tell me to stop worrying so much but I can see she’s not exactly calm. None of us are. None of this is natural, and with Cas gone, we are fully in the dark with all this. So we continue walking, turning right at the intersection, and following the new street. 

I find myself fiddling with my knife, anxious as my mind appears to be playing tricks on me. Despite the town being completely empty it seems, I almost can hear the sound of some sort of footfalls. No, not footfalls. It’s too heavy to be that of a person. I can hear the scraping of claws with it, a faint click click one might miss, but having had a dog for a short period of time before it ran away, I had gotten accustomed to the sound. Some sort of dog was following us, and while I hoped it was a friendly stray, all warning alarms in my head told me otherwise. 

“Dean,” I say softly. “There’s something following us.” 

He slows, looking over at me. “Something’s following us? How? I thought this town was completely empty, except for the Reapers.”

“There’s something else, but I can’t see where it is. I can just hear it,” I tell him truthfully, and he seems to pale slightly. 

Just then we hear a low growl and something brushes up against my leg, causing me to still. The others do as well and none of us move as the growling seems to go away from us, heading behind us. I want to talk, say something, but I hold my tongue, not wanting to attract the beast. 

“Sam, Dean! What a pleasant surprise!” A feminine voice calls out and all four of us turn around to find a dark haired woman standing in the street, looking extremely calm, as if not having realized there was some invisible hounds patrolling the street. “And you have hunter friends with you, how lovely!”

“Meg,” Dean spat. “What are you doing here, you demon freak?” 

Meg smiles darkly. “Oh, just visiting my favourite boys. Why, it’s been ages since we last talked, need to catch up on what I missed. But, I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought friends with me, do you Dean?” 

I look at her with confusion before something in my mind clicks. She’s not worried about the hounds because she brought them. They’re hers. 

“What friends?” Dean snarks and then a howl fills the air, sending shivers down my spine and I shudder at the sound of it. It makes every other monster so far I’ve seen seem tame and friendly in comparison, and I haven’t even seen with my own two eyes what it looks like. I gulp.

“Hellhounds,” I hear my mother say. Meg nods gleefully.

“They’ve been awful lonely, Deanie. Missed their favourite chew toy. So I thought why not bring them along and lets have a bit of fun.” Dean’s face is pale and I can only assume he’s thinking back to his first encounter with them, how they tore his body to shreds and dragged his soul to hell. 

I swallow the lump in my throat, glancing at the others around me. I only carry a knife while the others have sawed offs, and while it’s not exactly the most helpful, it’s better than being empty handed. I flip my knife in my fingers nervously while Meg looks at us like the cat that caught the canary. 

“Sick ‘em boys!” She all but purrs, snapping her fingers and we hear growling before the invisible hounds attack. 


End file.
